In love with being in love— the way I sass at him “yes”or “no” to my choosing chattering for warmth through a chilly autumn evening—it begins early this year—the last day of summer follows this evening as I drink hot tea the morning after to reassure myself that it is alright and will be. I colored conversation to the tune of autumn leaves just beginning to turn willing whomever I choose as a victim to be afflicted by a love sickness through the playful nature of sarcasm and flirtatious suggestion fueled by radiant harvest moons— a clear, clean white casting shadows on a bright evening framed by festival flags in celebration of the other and the we combine and mix amid the night crowd of late eaters and cocktail drinkers.